


Scoundrel Days

by nomercyhere



Series: 'Stories and Songs From His Era' Collection [5]
Category: Full House (US)
Genre: Angst, Death, Gen, Heavy Angst, Heavy Subject Matter, Jesse Can't Get Out Of His Mind, PTSD, Please Be Careful Reading This One, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Survivor Guilt, dealing with the aftermath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:48:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25059529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nomercyhere/pseuds/nomercyhere
Summary: What’s going on inside his brain isn’t showing on his face. And he’ll make sure that it never does.Based on the song 'Scoundrel Days' by 'a-ha'Trigger Warning: Read At Your Own RiskRated M for heavy subject matter, negative viewpoints and all around just because it's quite an unsettling story. Written with the intent to be a psychological piece. Again, please be careful reading this. For some people it has no effect, and for other's it's just a really heavy work.
Relationships: Jesse Katsopolis & Pam Katsopolis-Tanner
Series: 'Stories and Songs From His Era' Collection [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1804927
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	Scoundrel Days

**Author's Note:**

> For full effect:
> 
> I recommend highly that you read the lyrics/listen to the song 'Scoundrel Days' before reading this work, and then listen again while you are actually reading it.

Some days he could barley sense it. It seemed like it wasn’t even there. And others, it hurt so bad he could swear he was gonna die.

Unfortunately, today happened to be one of the latter.

It was on days like today, days when he felt like he was five years old again, and she was right there next to him, that he let it go. Didn’t even try.

So, as he sat there with everyone else screaming at who knows what, Michelle throwing sauce or something, he decided to let himself indulge a little bit. Afterall, there weren’t many moments like this. When silence was all he heard, even though shouting echoed all around.

His brain wandered back in time, to when he was just seventeen. Then to when he was four. And again, to when he was twenty-two.

It all flashed before him, going so fast that is was slow. He couldn’t really tell what he was supposed to do, what was he supposed to do?

It wasn’t like he was ever gonna see her again. So keeping her alive in his mind, even if it was just in form of memories being constantly replayed, more the bad than the good, he figured that it was all right. Just a little bit. Not too much, though.

He could hear her voice in his mind, he could see her blood on his hands.

He knew it wasn’t him. He hadn’t done it. She’d gone not because of him, but because of someone else.

But a part of him, a part of him in the deepest area of his brain, told him that he could have helped her. And that in not helping, he had done it to her. He had been the one who had killed her.

As he sat there, his face so void of emotion, so lifeless that it almost looked dead, his mind jumped around, dancing in his skull, telling him things that he already knew, confirming his worst fears. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to hear it. He knew that he did. He was making the choice. That much was clear.

Outwardly he was still, but inwardly, he grabbed at his hair and ripped at his shirt. Because he had done this. He knew it was his fault.

He had killed her.

He had killed Pam.

\--

He could feel Becky shaking his arm, he could hear the tightness in her voice as she tried to wake him from his daydream, but he didn’t care. It wasn’t every day that he got the luxury of being able to feel the way he did. 

Some days he didn’t even feel an ounce of remorse. Obviously, he felt remorse for her. He wanted her back, he couldn’t deny that no matter how hard that he tried, not that he would ever want to. But…

He knew that this was the proper way to be. Seeing her, knowing that he could’ve been there, he could’ve saved her, he could’ve done something. He was the one element between her life and death. That the entire society he lived in, all of his life and his perception of the world would’ve been drastically different if not for him reaching out and saving her. That he could’ve done it. He could’ve rescued his only sister. Could’ve helped her.

He could’ve prevented her from dying. A bit of his heart broke off, he had felt it as they’d put her into the ground.

And that piece was never coming back. Just like her.

It was his fault.


End file.
